Redhead Syndrome
by lunylovegoodlover
Summary: For centuries, the eldest-born son of each generation of Potters has had a bit of a problem - they keep falling head over heels in love with redheads.
1. Edmund Potter and Marrianne Montgomery

**1. Sir Edmund Potter and Miss Marrianne Montgomery, daughter of the Duke of Cornwall - 1675**

"You to wed my Marrianne? HA!"

"Papa!" The pretty young redhead made as if to grab her father's arm. He snatched it out of reach and glared at her.

"Quiet! Now, listen here, boy. I don't know what you're thinking. To think that I would even consider such an offer…I'll give you a minute to remove yourself from my property."

"No, your grace." He was a handsome young man, dressed in the height of fashion. If there were to be fault to be found in his appearance, it was to be found in his hair. Despite all the creams and oils he filled it with each morning, his unruly black hair would simply not lie straight.

"WHAT was that?"

"I said, no, your grace. Begging your grace's pardon, but I love Marrianne, and I intend to marry her with or without your approval."

"Love? LOVE? ARE YOU MAD, BOY? LOVE!"

"Papa, please!"

He whirled on her. "And I suppose you fancy yourself in love with this young…"

"Gentleman?" the young man offered helpfully.

"QUIET!" The older man took a deep breath, then said, "Your offer is an insult in and of itself, boy. My Marrianne, the daughter of an earl, to wed a mere _knight_? You're mad to even consider it. MAD, YOU HEAR?"

"Is everything alright in here?" Another woman chose that moment to enter. Her hair, once the same flaming color as Marrianne's, was streaked with gray, but other than that the two women could have been twins.

"Mama!" Marrianne cried, running into the woman's open arms. "Papa has said he won't let me marry Edmund!"

"Edmund?" Her grace turned to the young gentleman. Her eyes looked him up and down before returning to her daughter and saying, "Well, perhaps he has a point.

"You came."

"Of course I came," she whispered, slipping into his arms.

He received her gladly, but was unable to hide his worry. For a woman to marry without her parents' consent was impossible, but they couldn't give each other up – not in a million years. "What are we going to do?" he asked her.

"Elope."

"Elope?"

She laughed, and in that moment he knew that he would do anything to stay with her. "Yes, dimwit. Elope."

A week later, she was Marrianne Potter.


	2. Harold Potter and Leonie Avon

**2. Mr. Harold Potter and Mlle. L****é****onie Avon (I take no credit for L****é****onie's name – it's straight from Georgette Heyer's **_**These Old Shades**_**) – 1951 and 1958**

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Williams." There is a hardness in the man's voice as he cynically welcomes the late member.

"Good morning. I'm sorry I'm late – got held up in traffic. The Floo Network gets so crowed this time of day." Amusement is clear in her voice.

He seems slightly flustered as he says, "Well, take a seat." She does, and spends the rest of the meeting listening intently – _too_ intently, he can't help but think. Nobody's that interested in the history of the auror department.

From the start, she stands out. Maybe it's simply because she's older than the rest of the recruits – about his own age. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was ten times better at everything than they were. Heck, she was practically as good as he was, and he'd been head of the Auror office for five years!

"Why are you even bothering with training?" the head training auror, Alastor Moody, asks her one day. "You don't need it."

She flushes, but not with pleasure. He sees the exasperation in her eyes, and rolls his own. "I – I didn't know anything coming in," she is quick to say. "I'm just…rather quick on the uptake, I suppose you could say."

"Riiiight," Moody says, drawing out the syllables. "And I've never chased down a dark wizard. Go talk to Potter. He said he had some questions for you."

Harold jumps about ten feet in the air when he sees her open the door. Hastily, he slips the novel he was reading under his desk and pretends to look professional. "Miss – Miss Williams. What can I do for you?"

"Moody sent me in. He said you asked for me?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, of course. Sorry…I didn't get quite enough sleep last night…Aha!" He emerges from the masses of paper on his desk, clutching one sheet triumphantly. "Take a look at this."

Her eyes widen as she reads. When she looks up, there is an immensely satisfied look in his eyes. Ever since she arrived, she has been a thorn in his side. One-upping her is gives him a feeling of unholy glee.

"I fail to see what this has to do with me," she says as she hands the paper back to him. Her mask is good, he thinks. Very good. But it can't fool him.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what it has to do with you, Mademoiselle Avon."

"That's not my name."

"Oh?" Suddenly, he's on the other side of his desk, grabbing her arm in one of his hands. "What's this, then?" She hisses as he pulls her sleeve up roughly to reveal a pickle-shaped scar right where her elbow bends. He assumes it's a hiss of fear, of anger, of anything but the pain that's in her eyes when he looks back up.

There's a moment filled with silence, which she breaks with a heavy sigh. He lets go of her arm, which she massages for a moment. Then her mask is back in place as she smiles brightly and apologizes. "Sorry about that. It still hurts a little when touched."

He cringes. Causing her physical pain was never part of the plan. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine." When he remains silent, she asks, still in that obnoxiously bright voice, "So, what are you going to do with me?"

"Well…" For some reason his throat doesn't want him telling her. "Technically, I should arrest you. Spying for another nation and all that."

"You have no evidence.

Silently, he holds out a pile of papers. She glances at them, and when she looks up her eyes are appreciative. "You're good."

"I fancy I might be a bit ahead of you."

"I didn't actually send anything."

"Why should I believe you?"

She leans towards him, her eyes intense and sincere. "I swear it on my mother's grave."

For a moment, they're just staring at each other. Finally, regretfully, he breaks the silence. "Why are you here?"

"The French ministry has heard certain…rumors."

"Of what?"

"Dark magic. I can't tell you the details, but it's serious."

"Dark magic? That's ridiculous. I would have heard something.

"Well, according to my sources you had. You were supposed to be part of it."

"WHAT?" She laughs, and his heart stops. _Shut it,_ he orders, but he can't help but wonder what it would feel like to feel that every day for the rest of his life. It doesn't sound too bad. _SHUT IT,_ he orders himself again. _Be professional._ "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you supposed to die a dramatic death before you give up any secrets, or something?" _Smooth, Harold. Real smooth._

She rolls her eyes. "Anyone spending an hour with you could tell that you're innocent."

He runs his hand through his hair and tries to look all cool and mysterious. "Maybe I'm just an amazing actor."

She snorts. He gives up all thoughts of professionalism and snorts back. When Moody walks in five minutes later, he finds them there, snorting at each other and rolling on the floor with laughter. They pause for a moment and try to compose themselves. They fail the instant their eyes meet. Moody just shakes his head and leaves them to it.

Their first date is that night. It is easy, getting her to go out with him – far easier than he expects.

"Want to start over?" he asks her at one point. "Pretend we've never met?"

"Sure," she says, and sticks out her hand. "Hi, I'm Léonie Avon."

"Harold Potter," he says, shaking her hand. They laugh. "This is ridiculous," he says. "Can I take you out for dinner?"

At first, it's strictly a just-as-friends affair, but when it's the third night in a row they've gone out to dinner, they've stopped pretending. Harold, relatively quiet and always focused on work, is pulled out of his shell by her like by nobody else. He's heads over heels over heads over heels in love.

Then, three months into their relationship, they get the news: Léonie is to return to France. Her bosses, still believing that Harold has something to do with dark magic, are suspicious of her silence.

"I'll be back soon," she tells him. They're on the dock; her boat is just a few feet away. "Don't worry."

He forces a smile. "I'm not worried. Of course you'll be back soon."

But their kiss feels like a final goodbye.

_Dearest – _

_Paris is dreary without you. It's strange; it used to be my favorite city in the world, yet now as I look at it, all I can see is London. Dear, dear London. I miss it every day, almost as much as I miss you. I wish they would just go ahead and fire me so I could come back to you. As it is, I'm afraid I'll never be able to get out._

_There, I said it. Much as we have hoped otherwise, I may not be able to leave France again. They watch me very closely now. I've even been tailed a few times. If it were not for my brother, I would just drop everything and leave, but his wife is in the process of divorcing him and he needs my support. I will do everything in my power to return to you soon, though._

_As always, all my love,_

_L__é__onie_

Harold sighs and puts down the letter. His life has been bland in the months since Léonie left. He finds he still wakes up some mornings expecting to see her beside him. It's absurd, of course – he'll probably never see her again. Still, he can't help but hope.

An owl knocks on the window, and when he goes to open it, his joints creak. In muggle terms, he'd be an old man now. Magic will keep him alive another couple of decades, though.

He sighs when he sees the seal on the letter. Though he loves corresponding with Dumbledore, he hates the paperwork that always comes in the official letters. This scroll, however, is thin, and the message short and to the point.

_Harold,_ it starts.

_Please come to Hogwarts immediately. I have some very important news to share with you._

_Albus_

"Tom Riddle came to see me today."

"Riddle? He a year or two younger than me, wasn't he?"

"Two years younger," Dumbledore says, his face grim.

"Right! He was prefect when I was Head Boy. How could I forget him? A perfect student."

"Oh, yes, indeed. Prefect, Head Boy, star of the Slug Club, won the award for Special Services to the School, everything. But since he left school…I'm afraid he's gone bad. Very bad."

Harold leans forward, his attention caught. "You want me to go after him?"

"I want you to be very careful around him. He's changed from who he was at Hogwarts, Harold. I'm afraid he's turning out to be a very dangerous man. Have you heard anything about a Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

"That's Tom Riddle's new name. Keep your eyes on him. He's a dangerous one."

_Urayvep - _

_Udzsynufan tryynu zn cf qvb foovtn lnbcnaurl. Qn cfyu zn fo r Urax Jvmrau jqf vb prvevep gfjna. Qn jrb sfae Cfz Avuuyn, reu jrb r bcra bcdunec jqne V jrb rc Qfpjracb. Bvetn cqne, qfjnina, qn'b rggranecyl oryyne vecf Urax Zrpvt, reu efj tryyb qvzbnyo Yfau Ifyunzfac. Tfdyu cqvb sn jqrc lfda bdgnaivbfab jnan cryxvep rsfdc?_

_Yfcb fo yfin,_

_Qrafyu_

Léonie stares at the letter in her hand, puzzled. Harold's owl just delivered it. Searching for clues, she turns it over, to find another quick note jotted on the back.

_2/28 Remember?_

She sighs, exasperated with herself. How could she have been so stupid! Now, if only she can remember the key to the codes they had made up that night…

_*Flashback*_

"_I'll write, I promise," she had told him. "You write too. I want to know everything. Every single thing. All your cases. Everything."_

"_Some of that is confidential, you know," he said. "Not for you, of course, you know it all, but if it got to your superiors…"_

"_Well, what if they can't read it? We could use a code."_

"_And who taught you all the codes you know?"_

"_Oh."_

"_I suppose we could make one up."_

_She had stared at him. Only her Harold would want to make up a whole new complex code just so he could talk with his girlfriend. And only she would be mad enough to agree._

_Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night._

_*End Flashback*_

An hour later, Léonie has the translated letter.

_Darling - _

_Dumbledore called me to his office yesterday. He told me of a Dark Wizard who is gaining power. He was born Tom Riddle, and was a star student when I was at Hogwarts. Since then, however, he's apparently fallen into Dark Magic, and now calls himself Lord Voldemort. Could this be what your supervisors were talking about?_

_Lots of love,_

_Harold_

She raises her eyebrows. Her advisors would love to know about this. It might even be good enough for them to let her go. Her brother's divorce is almost done, anyway. Her imagination leaps ahead, to Harold and the ring he had promised her when she returned, to the home they would build together, to the children they could have.

Even years later, Harold and Léonie were always ashamed to say that a part of their hearts were always grateful to You-Know-Who.

**A/N: In case you care, I took a bit of liberty with the dates here. James' dad would have been at Hogwarts significantly before Voldemort for him to have been an elderly father. It doesn't really matter, but I'd feel bad if I didn't let you know. **


	3. James Potter and Lily Evans

**James Potter and Lily Evans – 1971 to 1981**

I didn't mean to fall in love with Lily Evans. After all, she was a bossy, arrogant little goodie-two-shoes whose best friend was a _Slytherin_. On top of that, she was a girl. That may not seem like a long list, but believe me, when you're eleven and just starting your first year at Hogwarts, that's all that matters.

All through first year, I was sure that Lily would be the death of me. To this day I swear that I wouldn't have gotten half the detentions I did if it hadn't been for her. She and Snape were constantly on my case, constantly ready to run to McGonagall, constantly thinking they were just that much better than me.

It was second year when I first asked her out. It was just a joke, a dare. We never thought that anything would come of it. No one was meant to get hurt. But her reaction was just hilarious enough for me to ask her again the next day, and the day after that. Soon, it was routine.

About halfway through third year, I realized that her constant rejections were actually starting to hurt. At first, I was sure it was just my self-esteem that was stinging. It wasn't until one day when she hexed me that I realized it was really about her – that I wanted _her _to go out with me, not some other girl.

That realization scared me, so all through fourth year I dated other girls. No one else knew what I felt for her – not even Sirius. It was the first secret I kept from him. Around that time, we became animagi. Lily would sometimes be in the Common Room when we snuck out to help Remus. She would roll her eyes, but never turned us in. It puzzled me at the time. Now, of course, I realize that she knew what we were doing all along.

Fifth year was when things started getting bad. I gave up dating other girls and returned to Lily. This time, however, my friends quickly learned that it wasn't a joke. Sirius spent a week in the hospital wing for teasing me about her. My love-life suddenly became the hottest topic in school. My friends (being the gits they are) loved it. Lily hated it, and therefore hated me. I barely noticed. All I cared about was Lily.

You know what happened at the end of that year, what that absolute _**{INSERT INSULTING NOUN OF YOUR CHOICE HERE}**_ called Lily, what he did to her. In some ways, that was the turning point of our relationship. It's funny, that the one person I hated most, who hated me most, would be the most helpful in getting Lily to fall for me. Suddenly, I was no longer the person she hated the most – he took that place. She still didn't like me hexing him, but managed to turn a blind eye some of the time. She started laughing at some of my pranks, though she still hexed me each time I asked her out.

Then came seventh year. Our golden age, I suppose. We were happy then, happy even as our world fell around us. Lily and I were forced to work together as Head Boy and Girl, and slowly but surely, she fell in love with me. We started dating right before Christmas. It was the best day of my life, until our graduation day, when I proposed and she said yes.

We didn't get married right away. There was a war going on, for one thing. We were both fighting, both risking our lives every day. And I wanted to meet Lily's family. She already knew mine – the Marauders were all that I had left by the time we graduated. Lily took me to her sister's wedding. Let's just say it didn't go all that well. But her parents let her marry me, and we were as happy as it was possible to be during the First Wizarding War.

It wasn't really a huge shock to learn that Voldemort was targeting us. We had opposed him enough times for him to learn our names. It still scared us, though. How could it not? So we went into hiding, took every precaution. Only then, of course, we had to put our trust in the wrong person. We trusted Peter, and he betrayed us. Of all the betrayals of that time, that one hurt the worst.

I knew what was going to happen the instant Voldemort walked in our door. He was going to kill me, kill Lily, kill Harry, kill everything I held dear. I knew it was going to happen, and it almost did. I think Lily and I would have gone mad, up in Heaven, if it weren't for the fact that we were together, and Harry survived. But if there's one thing I discovered in my life, it's that I can do anything I want, so long as Lily's at my side.

**A/N: In case you can't tell, I'm experimenting with writing styles in this story. Part of it has to do with how much we already know about the characters, but it mainly just depends on my mood. Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited, alerted, or commented. It makes my day every time it happens. **


	4. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley

**A/N: I had two very different scenarios in my head for this one and I couldn't decide which one I liked better. So here they both are.**

**Mr. Harry James Potter and Miss Ginny Weasley - 1998**

She stood in the window sill, watching as the sun slipped over the horizon. For the first time in a long while, all of Hogwarts was quiet. The last rays of the sun shone fiercely through the window, illustrating her silhouette clearly.

His feet were quiet as he slipped down the stairs. He had been resting all day, sleeping off the long months of fighting and terror. During those hard times, she was what kept him sane. She was the one he thought of when he needed inspiration. But now that he could finally talk to her, he was suddenly shy. After all, it had been nearly a year. He had broken up with her. Maybe (his throat seized up at the very thought) maybe she was seeing someone else.

_Don't be foolish,_ said a voice within him (one that sounded awfully like Hermione's). _You saw her face when you arrived. She still loves you._

Slowly, he walked up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, her hand instantly reaching for her wand (such were the times they lived in). When she saw it was him, she relaxed instantly, giving him a quick smile before turning back to the sunset. Even in that brief moment, however, he could see that she had been crying (but of course – who hadn't been?).

His arms slipped around her, offering the only comfort he could, and instinctively she leaned against him. Her body was cold, her clothes still torn and bloody from the battle (but she'd never looked more beautiful). He gazed down at her face, as captivated by it as he had been last summer. It had changed so much in that time. There were lines where there weren't before, a silent testimony to the pain she endured (ironically, he was almost glad he wasn't the only one who had changed). Her eyes scared him, though. They were focused on the distance, staring at the sun as if that could make the pain disappear, but they were empty. Her eyes had always been so alive, so full of light, but now they only contained a tired sorrow.

Her head turned to look at him and when her eyes met his they seemed to regain a little of their joy. She smiled at him, and he smiled at her, and they stood there, holding each other as the sun set on all their grief and hardship.


	5. James Potter and Emma Carleton

**A/N: I know I said that there would be a second part to Harry and Ginny's, and I was all fired up and full of inspiration…and then I had to go away and do something else. And now I'm completely out of inspiration and I really, really want to do James Jr, so here he is. Just fyi, this is looking like it's going to be significantly longer than the other chapters. Maybe because it actually has a bit of a plot!**

James made his way through the crowd, darting through tables and around waiters, attempting to get to the door. It was a nice enough restaurant, he thought, but completely packed. As he waited for a large group to enter, he became aware of a young couple arguing beside him.

"Get away from me."

"Come on, Emma, you can't just walk out on me like this."

"How long will it take you to get it into your head that I. Broke. Up. With. You. We're no longer dating!"

The entering group was crowding the entrance, forcing the couple closer to James. The man reached out and snaked an arm around the woman's waist. "Come home, love," he said coaxingly. "We'll talk things through, and you'll see what a mistake you're making."

"Get away from me!" She tried to shove him away, but it was too crowded. Her eyes searched for help, finally landing on James.

He had no idea who she was, or what that man had done to make her hate him so, but despite everything, James Sirius Potter was his father's son, and he was not about to watch her be carted off unwillingly. He strode over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," he said in his haughtiest voice (and everyone knew that he could be haughty when he wanted). "Would you mind releasing her?"

The man looked at him. He was a big fellow, far taller than James' five and a half feet*. Scowling, he demanded, "Who are you?"

"Leave him alone," the woman (Emma he had called her) said.

His eyes filled with a sudden suspicion, the man whirled on her. "Who is he?!"

She didn't flinch as she said, with utter confidence, "My boyfriend."

The man turned back to James. "Is that true?"

Behind him, Emma's mask slipped and James' saw her desperation. "Of course," he said calmly. "Now, if you'll excuse us…"

"I don't believe you," the man snapped. "You've never seen each other before now. You just made it up on the spot!"

"I assure you," James said, "we've been dating a considerable time."

"A considerable time, eh?" the man roared. "And you accuse me of cheating!"

Emma stood tall beneath him. "A month is a considerable time," she said.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I don't believe you. What's her name, then, huh? I betcha you can't even tell me her name!"

"Emma," James said, praying he had heard right. "Emma Carleton." It was lucky the man wasn't looking at Emma just then, for the look on her face would have given them away for sure. "Now, we really must be going." He took Emma by the arm and led her out into the parking lot. The man tried to follow, but was stopped by the hostess telling him his table was ready.

"I don't care!" he yelled at the unfortunate woman. "I'm going to get you!" he hollered after James. "You ain't got no right to my woman!"

In the parking lot, Emma stopped at a small red car. She unlocked it without a word, and slid into the driver's seat, leaving James to follow.

When the doors closed, they knew they couldn't be overheard, but there was something that made them unwilling to talk. So long as they had had a part to play, they could play it, but when their lines were taken from them, they were left in silence.

"I'm not usually a damsel in distress," Emma finally said. "Do you often play Prince Charming?"

"Sort of," he said. James' mind was scrambling, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into. "It's kind of a… family thing."

"Really? That's cool. Do you make a habit of stalking people?"

He looked slightly taken aback. "Only my cousins and their potential significant others." She laughed, and he felt himself smile. It was nice to talk to someone, if only for a moment, who would laugh with him, and be natural, as opposed to the fangirls who always fawned over him at Hogwarts. "Do you?"

"Me? Stalk people?" That made her laugh even harder. "Oh, no. I just wondered how you knew my name."

He grinned. "It was actually pure luck. I happened to overhear the waiter calling you Miss Carleton. Then that bloke called you Emma. It wasn't that hard to piece together."

"How exactly did you overhear that?"

"You're a redhead," he said, as though that explained everything.

"Pardon?"

James laughed. "Practically my entire family has red hair," he said. "We tend to be on the lookout for kindred spirits."

"Kindred spirits," Emma said dreamily. "I always loved that phrase. Did you ever read Anne of Green Gables?"

"What?"

"Anne of Green Gables? About an orphan girl in Canada? No?" She laughed disbelievingly. "You've never heard of Anne of Green Gables."

"I don't, um, read much," James said, cursing his lack of muggle education. Where was Rose when you needed her? She was the one who read all those books.

"You should," Emma said, looking at him sternly. "Reading is good for the soul."

"I know," he said. "It's just that I'm, um, busy. Yeah. I'm busy. Very busy. Like, really busy."

"You really have a way with words," she said, leaning back against the seat and looking at him with laughter in her eyes.

"So I've been told," he said, grinning. Wait. Grinning? He was grinning? He, James Sirius Potter, was actually having a normal conversation with a girl that he wasn't related to? He hoped he wasn't related to her. Oh, Merlin, what if she was a witch and he just didn't recognize her? Or if she was in disguise? That would be just the sort of trick that someone like Anna McLaggan would pull.

"Calm down, mate," a voice that sounded like Fred's said in his ear. "Stop being so paranoid. She's just a muggle."

But James couldn't shake the feeling that he had met this woman before. "So, if you're not a stalker, who are you?" he asked, still grinning at her.

"A good little girl, who dated the same guy for eight years and fully intended to marry him," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

"Eight years?" James said, trying to wrap his head around that concept. "Wow."

"I know, it was pathetic," she said. "But, I guess, all things considered it wasn't any more pathetic than the spot I put you in tonight. I'm sorry about that, really."

"It wasn't a problem," James said, his lips twitching. "If you ever need a fake boyfriend again, feel free to let me know."

"Oh, I will," she assured him. "In fact, I have a family party tomorrow where everyone expects me to be bringing Tim. They don't know that we broke up."

"Families are a pain," he said without thinking.

She laughed. "Yeah. They were all expecting us to get married, and now…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. Again, his mouth seemed to be functioning independent of his brain. What was it about this woman? "Not, I mean, that you have to, I know we just met and it's kind of awkward…"

"It's fine," she said, laughing. "I expected you to ask long before this, actually."

"I don't mind telling you," she said. "And if anyone has a right to know, you do."

When she didn't continue, James prompted her. "Well?"

"There's not that much to tell, really," Emma said. "Tim and I grew up together in the US."

"Where?" James interrupted.

"San Francisco Bay Area," she said. "Don't interrupt."

"Wait, you're American," he said.

"I told you not to interrupt!" she said, looking at him sternly. "But yes, I am American."

"I never would have guessed," he marveled. "What happened to your accent?"

"I've been here almost three years and worked very hard to get rid of it," she said. "Now do you want me to explain myself or not?"

"Go on," James said meekly. Meekly. Since when was he meek? She turned everything upside down.

"Anyway, we were high school sweethearts and all that. We decided to come here for university together, and everything was going great. Everyone assumed we'd get married, and I guess I did too. But exactly a month ago, I found out he was cheating on me. Had been, the whole time."

"Prat," James muttered under his breath.

"But wait, there's more!" Emma said. "I planned to break up with him at dinner that night. It was the end of term, the obvious time to make big life changes and all that. But apparently I wasn't the only one thinking that."

"He was going to break up with you?"

"Worse. He was going to propose."

James laughed. "Wow. Great timing. Who said their piece first?"

"Me. I basically got through saying that I had found about the other girls –"

"More than one?"

"Oh, dozens. Eight years is a long time. But anyway, I told him I knew, and _then_ he proposed."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. He got right down on one knee and talked about how it was fate that I had found out, how he was going to tell me tonight, how he was sorry, yada yada yada."

"Did you hex – I mean slap him?"

"You bet I did. And stormed right out of there."

"Good for you," James said appreciatively.

She smiled, then said, "If you don't mind, I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"When you asked me if I slapped him, you said something else first. Something about hexing."

James stiffened. "I would forget that, if I were you," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I can't tell you," he said. "It's nothing personal, but there's a lot of stuff about me that… confidential."

She fixed her eyes on him, their deep blue piercing him to the soul. This is what Dad means when he talks about Dumbledore's eyes, James thought dizzily. He blinked, and things shifted back into focus. She was just a girl, and a muggle on top of that. Chances were that he would never see her again. Something in his chest felt strange as he thought about that. "What time is that party you mentioned?" he found himself asking.

"I don't even know your name," she said wonderingly.

"James Sirius Potter," he said, half bracing himself for the "OMG YOU'RE HARRY POTTER'S SON!" that usually followed this announcement. But Emma just asked,

"Do you always include your middle name when introducing yourself?"

James cringed. "I guess?" he said. "It's just that my grandfather was James Potter, and so I like to differentiate myself."

"Serious," she mused. "Spelled like the state of being?"

"S-I-R-I-U-S. It was my dad's godfather's name."

"So you're named after your dad's father and his godfather. That's a heavy burden to carry."

"You have no idea," James said. "My brother has it worst, though. He's Albus Severus Potter."

"Albus Severus?" Emma laughed, a loud hoot that made something stir in James' stomach. "That's horrible. What were your parents thinking?"

"He's named after two of my parent's headmasters," James said, realizing as he did exactly how little Emma knew of him, of his world. She didn't know that there was so much more to Dumbledore and Snape's relationships with Harry. She didn't even know what quiddich was!

"And how much do you know about the muggle world?" a voice that sounded scarily like his Aunt Hermione demanded.

So James asked, "What about you? Have any siblings?"

Emma shook her head regretfully. "Only child, I'm afraid."

"Lucky," James said, not bothering to hide his envy. "I wish I was an only child."

She stared at him incredulously. "Are you kidding? It stinks. Everything's always so quiet when it's just you and your parents."

James laughed. "My mum had six older brothers. Quiet is considered either a sin or an unattainable blessing in our family."

"Six? Wow."

"Yeah, but one…er…two of them never got married. But my dad has about ten zillion really close friends, so if you add them in…I think I've got something approaching twenty cousins."

"God," she said. "And I thought my family was dysfunctional."

He laughed. "You'll have to work hard to beat me at that. I mentioned that they were all redheads, right?"

"Yeah."

"They've got the temper that goes with it."

Emma laughed. "You win that prize, then. Say, do you want to go get some ice cream or something? The least I can do is treat you."

James shrugged, but his heart was leaping. "Okay."

"It's your turn now," she said as she began to drive. Her eyes were now focused on the road, and James found himself missing them. "I told you an embarrassing story about me."

"I rescued you!" James protested as he ran through his most humiliating moments and tried to imagine how he could muggle-alize them.

"So?" she said. "You still have to go."

"What if I don't have any stories?" he said challengingly.

"Everyone has stories. It doesn't have to be super embarrassing, just something you regret."

"There was this one girl," James said slowly. No one knew how much she had hurt him, not even Fred and he told Fred everything. "I started dating her when I was around fourteen and she was my first serious girlfriend. I was stupid and naïve and thought that she loved me."

"What was her name?"

"Miranda Skeeter. I suppose I should have known. She was the illegitimate daughter of a journalist that had made my dad's life miserable a few years back, but I didn't think about any of that. I was head over heels in love. And then one day I walked into my dorm –"

"Dorm? You went to boarding school?"

"Yeah," he said, half of him glad for the interruption, the other half just wanting to get it over with.

"And?" she prompted.

"I found her and my cousin Fred tangled on his bed. She claimed he had raped her. The next day he said that she had been coming onto him for a while and that she finally, er, drugged him into obedience. I laughed in his face and told him to go to hell."

"Was he telling the truth?"

James laughed, the bitter laugh that was the only one most got from him. "Of course. I heard other rumors that she was cheating on me, but turned a blind eye. And then I found out that the same thing had been going on with all of my other male cousins that were at school, from Louis, who was three years older than us, down to Hugo, who was three years younger. I turned against them all, started spending all my time with her. But then she began to back away, saying I'd changed, that I was being too possessive. Finally my cousin Roxanne just got sick of it and kidnapped me – literally snatched me from my bed – and she and all my female cousins sat down and screamed at me for an hour and a half."

A snort emited from Emma. James looked over at her to see that she was shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "It's not funny… but I think I like your cousins."

He grinned. "Yeah, they're great. They also wrote to my mum and I got an earful from her, too. And they shoved all sorts of evidence under my face and eventually wore me down." James paused, thinking. That was when it all had started: the girls, the alcohol, the disinterest. He had kissed another girl to show Miranda he didn't care, and it had all spiraled out of control. Because if the girl he loved had only been dating him because of his last name, then what was the point? That was all they all wanted, anyway. The chance to say that they had dated Harry Potter's son. Let Albus deal with that, or Fred, or any of the others. While James had never stopped "dating" girls, the word took on a new meaning, a more transient one.

"Hey," Emma said softly as she pulled into a parking spot. She turned to him and laid a hand on his knee. "Not all girls are like that. You know that, right?"

"Course," he said, avoiding her eyes. "My family would never forgive me for saying they were."

He didn't have to look up to know that she was staring at him. "That party?" she finally said. "The one that my family thinks I'm bringing Tim to? It's at noon tomorrow. Meet me here?"

Slowly, James raised his head, dreading what he would find. But he needn't have worried. There was no pity in Emma's eyes, just a fierce determination. "Okay," he said, wondering what had happened to him.

She smiled, and his heart swelled with joy. "Come on," she said. "Let's go get some ice cream."

Emma bounded out of the car, darting to the back to grab her bag. James got out more slowly, watching this enchanting muggle girl and the way her fiery hair danced in the wind.

*** I don't even have to convert it to meters because in the wizarding world, they don't use the metric system! They're just as far behind as we are.**

**A/N: So, a couple of things.**

**1. I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I FINISHED THIS STORY. Siriusly. I know I've been really slow at updating, but this is probably my favorite story that I've ever written and now I'm really sad cause it's over. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. (see #2)**

**2. Emma and James. I've had the idea for them in my head for a very long time and I am very excited to have finally gotten them down on paper. But the thing is, I love them too much. I have too many wonderful ideas for them, and there's no way they can all fit into one story. So, it is very likely that they will be showing up in some of my other stories. This chapter will be the basis for all of their stories, but the other chapters will have nothing to do with each other. Like, I'll write Emma meeting the Weasleys ten different ways, or something like that.**

**3. The next place where Emma and James will be showing up is in my story ****_The Burrow_****, the first chapter of which will be up soon. They don't make an appearance for a couple chapters, but I would love you forever if you'd take a look at that.**

**4. This A/N is ridiculously long, so I'm going to stop now.**

*****I JUST WANT TO GIVE MAJOR THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED, FAVORITED, OR FOLLOWED THIS STORY. IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME.*** **


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